To Write Love On Her Arms
by Peppermint Clouds
Summary: For years, Astrid chased away the painful memories of her past with a blade and a smile. She could have lived a lifetime that way, believing that she was slowly but surely healing, if only Hiccup Haddock hadn't walked right into the middle of it and changed everything she had once known. [Modern AU. Short. Rated T for violence. Trigger warning for abuse and self harm.]
1. Concrete Angel

**Author's Note:** I've had so many ideas lately. So here, after much research and thought, is my latest story. I don't know how this will go so bear with me.

This is not a story about a Mary Sue getting her daily dose of pity or a story meant to make fun of people who self harm. It's meant to be fairly serious. To Write Love On Her Arms was inspired by an organization called "To Write Love On Her Arms," which strives to help people across the world who are suffering. If anything in this story strikes home, please consider visiting their website. _Hope and help are real._

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _How to Train Your Dragon_ or anything else in this story other than the plot.

 **Warning:** This story may be triggering for people who are struggling with depression, self harming, or abuse

* * *

 _The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope._

-Renee Yohe

* * *

 _The air was hazy, the taste of that summer's dry heat rushing through her lips. Astrid coughed once as she sat up to clear her throat, her head swivelling around. Across the room, the too-pretty reporter on the TV gave the weather forecast for the week with a stale smile._

 _"Awake already?"_

 _Astrid traced the voice back to the warm face of her mother, who sat in one of the leather armchairs in front of the TV. She nodded as she pushed a wispy strand of blonde hair behind her ear._

 _"One of the Jensen girls from across the street came over for you earlier. I'm sure they're still out playing in the yard," her mother said as she pushed herself to her feet. She glanced at the clock, her eyes widening slightly. "I'm going to be late to pick up your dad if I don't get going soon. Dinner's in the fridge. Don't stay out too late."_

 _Astrid sighed as her mother handed her the TV remote and kissed her forehead, resisting the urge to wipe the lipstick off of her forehead. "Behave, alright? If you go over to the Jensens' have them call me."_

 _"Okay, mom," Astrid said. She folded her legs beneath her on the floor, pushing the blanket tangled around her feet away. She kept her head lowered as her mother grabbed her purse from its place by the door and shouted her goodbyes._

 _"Yeah, love you too," Astrid mumbled to herself before grabbing the TV remote and changing the channel to an old comedy movie. Her mother's car pulled out of the garage and rushed down the street, pausing briefly at the stop sign before disappearing behind the trees._

 _Astrid yawned and walked into the kitchen. She pulled the phone from its receiver, ready to dial the Jensens' number when the dog began to whine in the other room. She set it down on the counter, rolling her eyes as she looked out the windows._

 _The eldest of the three Jensen girls was walking up the driveway, a soccer ball in her hands. Astrid dashed outside to meet her, forgetting her mother's warning as she followed the other girl across the street._

 _If she had called, Ingrid might have slowed down for the traffic light in her haste to get home, just missing the speeding pickup that crashed into the driver's side of her car_.

* * *

Astrid's eyes cracked open once, twice, as faint blue light poured in through the open window and stained the floor. She grimaced as she pushed herself into a sitting position, the corner of the sink cutting into her shoulder. Her entire body ached from sleeping in such an awkward position on the bathroom floor, but she couldn't bring herself to stand and face the world just yet. The tile felt cool on her warm skin, tethering her to the small corner she had found herself in like nicotine's sweet kiss to a smoker's lungs.

Outside, a car sped by. A dog barked. A woman yelled for her children to wait for her. The world was wide awake and moving forward without her.

With one hand on the sink and the other braced against the glass shower door, she climbed to her feet. Her eyes squeezed shut as one of the fresh pink stripes on her left wrist, which she had called battle scars for as long as she could remember, was ripped open. She opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the amber bottle of peroxide, which she set on the sink and uncapped before reaching for a towel. As she turned around and unfolded the towel, her elbow hit the bottle and knocked it into the sink. She watched, frozen, as the liquid flowed down the drain. She was jolted back to reality when her wrist began to throb to its own beat, and immediately reached out for the bottle.

After screwing the top back onto the nearly empty bottle, she wet the towel under the sink faucet and held it to her wrist. The rough material irritated the tender flesh but she didn't dare remove it as she left the bathroom, a glance at the clock on the dresser telling her that she had only 15 minutes to get to work.

As she dressed and twisted her hair into a braid, she kept her thoughts trained on the silence. If she let them wander, they would return to that house on Elmwood street, to the rows of glinting bottles on their kitchen counter and the sound of-

Astrid tugged her lip between her teeth as she braced her hand against the wall. She didn't want to think about that. Not now of all times, when she had been slowly progressing. She felt that she was doing so much better. Was a few minutes of silence and clear thoughts too much to ask for?

Once the bleeding had stopped and the stained towel had been tossed into the laundry hamper, she gently dabbed makeup over her wrists, making sure the skin appeared as smooth and unblemished as possible. More than anything, she hated the shocked and disgusted stares people gave her when she didn't cover her scars, like she was physically hurting them just by being in their presence. But it had been a while since anyone had noticed them, so it was her own secret escape, hidden in plain sight. And she preferred it to be that way.

She grabbed her sweater on the way out and held her breath as she walked down the empty hallway. She jogged down the stairs, her throat thick, and found her car in the lot. Driving alone and seeing the city moving around her always reminded her of what a small, insignificant role she played in such a big world. A miniscule piece that fit into the middle of a seemingly endless puzzle, stretching on forever over the gentle curves of the world.

At a stop light just blocks away from her apartment, she saw him. Or at least she thought she did. Out of instinct, her foot slammed down on the break, her stomach rolling uneasily. She could feel his hands around her neck again, the sweet summer air leaving her lips as she dug her nails into his arms, the voices of the television crackling in her ears a million years away-

 _Stop. Don't do this to yourself. Not today. Not again._

Her hands trembled as she willed herself to pull over to the side of the road. There was no one behind her, but she wouldn't take the chance. Her breath became ragged as she let her head fall onto the steering wheel, hot tears stinging her eyes as they streamed down her cheeks in mascara-darkened rivers.

* * *

Astrid was halfway through replying to an email from her editor-in-chief when a shadow crossed in front of the bright sunbeam cascading through the window behind her onto her desk. She cleared her throat as she minimized the screen.

"Good morning, Milady," a familiar voice chirped.

Astrid looked up from her computer, a bright smile plastering itself to her lips without her consent. Her hands left the keyboard in front of her to slide under safety of the desk, tugging at the sleeves of her pale blue sweater anxiously. "Hey you," she replied.

Her heart banged against her ribcage like a wild animal as she waited for him to speak again. She couldn't read his expression and that scared her. What if he noticed that she was wearing the same dress she had been wearing the day before? Did he see that her makeup was smudged from the tears that had slipped down her cheeks just minutes before she had walked through those doors?

She felt like an open book, laid out to be read by whoever took interest in knowing her deepest and darkest secrets.

Hiccup leaned against the side of her desk, his green eyes glowing in the fluorescent light, radiating happiness. Finally, he spoke, "So how are you on this fine April morning?"

She laughed once, humorlessly, and trained her eyes on the window, watching as raindrops splattered against the glass. She couldn't look at those cheery, innocent green eyes after what had happened that morning at the stop light. "Tired. I was up all night with Stormfly. She hasn't been feeling great lately." Lies, lies, lies…

"If you want I could come by and help out with her," Hiccup offered.

Astrid swallowed hard, thinking. "No. No, it's fine, really."

"Are you sure, because-"

"Hiccup, I'm sure," she said quickly, the words burning her tongue in their haste to leave her lips. The corners of his lips dipped towards the floor, his eyebrows pulling together, his disbelief clear as day in his green eyes. Frustrated with herself, she ran her thumb over one of her more recent additions to the growing number of battle scars crisscrossing her arms, the little jolt of pain sending a rush of euphoria through her veins. She blinked away the glazed look that came over her blue eyes as she realized that Hiccup was speaking to her.

"-if you're sure. Listen, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?"

"Dinner? With you?"

Hiccup smiled and glanced down at his shoes, his face turning a soft pink with embarrassment. "Yeah, just as friends. I mean, if that's what you want of course," he added.

She gave him a weak but genuine smile. Hiccup was her best friend, so why shouldn't she enjoy a night out with him, right? An image of the unopened pack of cheap razors in her apartment flashed through her mind and the smile vanished. No, it was stupid to think that she could do that. She wouldn't hurt him, not like she felt she had so carelessly with the others.

"I would love that, but I...I can't. I'm sorry, Hiccup."

A lopsided smile crossed his features. "Really? You've never passed up my cooking before. And, bonus, I promised Toothless that I would give him a bath tonight. Dinner and a show."

He watched as her thoughts played across her face, hope glittering in his eyes. As the seconds ticked past, his smile wilted and disappeared. She sighed softly, the sound almost completely unheard by him. "Okay," she whispered.

A bright grin lit up his face. "Awesome," he said, "I'll pick something up on my way home tonight. Maybe a movie too? Does a comedy sound good?"

She nodded. "That sounds perfect," she said truthfully. It would be nice to get away, although for a short while. "I can't wait."

* * *

At half past six, Astrid stood outside Hiccup's door, a jacket folded over her arm. Her eyes followed the curb of the hushed street, observing the warm lights glowing in the windows of the houses, bordered by manicured lawns decorated with children's toys and vibrant flowerbeds. The house before her was simple but nonetheless welcoming.

She smiled as the door opened and Hiccup's eyes met hers. He held the door open wider, jumping out of the way so she could step inside. As she did so, she couldn't help but notice his attire. The green button down he wore was far more formal than the dress she was still wearing after two days, its skirt wrinkled from sleep. If she looked down, she would surely find a stain or two on the sleeve from her makeup. But she hadn't wanted to go home and risk giving in to the temptation of the unopened package of cheap razors hidden away under the sink in the bathroom.

"Make yourself at home. I just put the movie in, and there's pasta. Is that okay? I mean, I can make something different if you want," Hiccup said.

"No, pasta is fine," she said.

He reached for her jacket, meeting her eyes as he gently pulled it from her grasp. He took it with him into the kitchen, calling something over his shoulder that she couldn't quite make out. She slipped out of her heels and followed him.

As they ate, she listened to his stories about Toothless and his family, raising questions and laughing when he paused to take a much-needed breath or lift a bite to his lips. He smiled at her in a way that made her chest feel tight and hot, like a match had been touched to her heart, setting her ablaze. In those short moments, she valued their friendship more than ever. She cherished his trust and honesty and took what he called his flaws, like the smattering of light freckles across his nose or the way his smile crooked to one side, things that made him beautiful to her, with a grain of salt. For just a little while, long enough to drag a small smile back across her face, he had chased away the demons of her past, and not once did she find herself slipping away from his green eyes.


	2. Look the Other Way

**Author's Note:** So I took a little break from writing. This story isn't all that high up on my to-do list, so regular updates won't be a thing for either a very long time or ever. Also, I won't be responding to reviews this time around. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds._

-Jamie Tworkowski

* * *

 _Astrid sat alone at the kitchen table, her eyes glued to the clock on the wall as its ticks and tocks echoed throughout the house. The bouquet of pink roses, her mother's favorite, she had picked out on her way home from soccer practice had already lost several petals._

 _He was late. Again._

 _She had debated taking the flowers to the home on 22nd street herself, but decided against it for his sake. Now she was paying the price._

 _The door at the end of the hall clicked open suddenly, followed by the hollow thuds of his footsteps. Astrid straightened as her father walked into the kitchen, his hair a mess and his shirt untucked._

 _"I'm sorry, sweetheart. They needed me to stay just a little longer tonight to fill out some paperwork," he said. "Just let me hop in the shower and we'll get going."_

 _Astrid swallowed hard. "Dad?"_

 _"Yes?"_

 _"There was no paperwork, was there?" she whispered, watching with disappointment as his shoulders sagged. That was the only answer she needed._

 _Astrid stood and cradled the bouquet into her arms, the legs of her chair screeching against the floor. She didn't wait for him to make another poor excuse, a lie, before marching down the hallway. Her heart was torn by the emotions flowing through her._

 _"Astrid, just wait a minute!" Her father jogged after her, his blue eyes muddied by shame. "Just let me explain-"_

 _"I can't believe you!" she cried. "What was it? Another woman? A night with the guys at the bar? Today was supposed to be her day and you took that from her. You took that from me."_

 _"She's gone. There's no use in focusing on the past. You'll be forced to move on eventually, so why not now?"_

 _Astrid scoffed. "So it was a woman," she mumbled before stepping outside. She ignored her father's pleas as she walked down the street, her skin cold and numb._

 _Of all days, he had chosen this day to betray her._

 _The trip to 22nd street was brief but cooled her temper. She opened the iron gate with her free hand before running up the steps and crossing the grass to a familiar willow tree. She knelt under it, her eyes trained on the marble angel with the inscription at its sandaled feet:_

 _In loving memory of_

 _Ingrid Hofferson._

 _May 4th 1971 - June 17th 2005_

 _"No day shall erase you from the memory of time," Astrid read aloud. She set the roses in front of the weeping angel and touched the smooth stone gently. "Happy Mother's Day, mom."_

 _"Dad would be here, but...you know how he is. He's, um, pretty busy with work these days. I still wanted to see you."_

 _Astrid crossed her arms as a whisper of a breeze traveled through the cemetery, chilling her to the bone. She couldn't leave yet though, not when she might not be able to return under her father's watch for a long time._

 _"We miss you every single day. You were always so happy all the time, even when something was on your mind. The house isn't the same anymore without you around. Dad let me plant roses in the backyard last summer though, right next to the swing where we used to read, so I'll always have a part of you with me," she said._

 _"I know you would be upset, but I'm not sure I'll graduate next year. I'm really trying, but school is so hard now. I don't understand any of it and no one will slow down to explain. Maybe I'll end up like one of those dropouts, living on ramen and cigarettes."_

 _The gates to the cemetery creaked open, followed by hushed voices._

 _"I should get going. Love you, mom."_

* * *

The first thing Astrid noticed that night wasn't the color of his eyes, or the way his russet hair fell into his face when he grinned, or the freckles that dotted his pale skin like constellations. Sure, she took the time to observe these things as the night progressed, but they were so far from the first.

Hiccup was different.

From the plain green furniture in the living room adorned with tufts of cat hair to the way he smiled at her in the silence, she could see it. He was nothing like her and she loved that about him. To not see herself reflected in every little move-the tears, the bruises, the severed ties-was a pleasant surprise. At first she was hesitant to let the warm feeling of contentment overwhelm her, but with Hiccup's gaze on her she hadn't much choice.

Yet Astrid could still feel the odd pangs in her heart, a cold, empty feeling she had long since grown used to, and that alone worried her that maybe he wasn't as different as she thought he was. Different should have made her smile until her cheeks ached and laugh until she cried and long for just one more minute with him. She didn't feel any of that.

 _Broken._ The word echoed in her head like a far off gunshot, close enough to send a wave of ice water through her veins but distant enough that she willed herself to choose fight over flight.

A burst of laughter snatched her attention. She glanced at the movie still playing on the TV across the room. She folded her legs under her, setting the plate on the coffee table in front of her. Hiccup glanced up at the sudden noise.

"So...how was it? Am I going to be the next Gordon Ramsay?" he asked, grinning as he took their dishes into the kitchen. She followed him, her arms draped across her chest.

"The amount of salt used was questionable," Astrid said quietly.

"What, you've never heard of a pinch? No one measures. It's all in the fingers." Hiccup set the dishes in the sink and turned to face her, amusement clear in his eyes. She reflected it with her own gaze as best she could.

Hiccup's lips twitched and then cracked into a smile as he laughed. Astrid frowned, confused. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Your dress. The sleeve." Hiccup stepped forward, taking her right arm into his left. He grasped the sleeve of her dress, as if preparing to lift it, bearing the pale, swollen skin beneath. "There's something right-"

Astrid's eyes widened, her breath hitching in her throat. The room spun, her stomach churning uneasily. She staggered back and banged her hip on the edge of the small dining table, cradling her arm against her chest.

A heavy silence hung over the room for what felt like hours. Astrid could feel the wetness forming at the corners of her eyes as she turned away, bracing herself against one of the chairs, terrified and humiliated all at once. He knew. There was no way he couldn't after the way she reacted. She had just blown her one chance at being something close to _normal_ again into a million pieces.

"Astrid...are you okay?" Hiccup asked softly.

She nodded, straightening up as she blinked away the tears. "Just fine. I thought…I thought I saw something."

"It's just us, Astrid. You know you can talk to me, don't you?"

"Thanks but no thanks, Hiccup. It's okay. Really. I'm sure I'll be fine after I get some sleep," Astrid said, her voice cracking suspiciously. She could feel her heart bursting in her chest, her very being shouting at her to _stop_ , to let him hold her like her mother used to, as silly as it sounded in her head.

The floorboards creaked behind her, followed by the telltale scuffs of footsteps. "I don't like seeing you like this. I know something is wrong and it's okay for you to hurt. Everyone has their weak moments."

 _Weak._

 _Broken._

 _Different._

A dry sob forced its way from her lips. Her fingernails dug into her palms, but the dull sting did nothing to soothe her. Astrid could feel the remaining threads of self-control slipping away from her.

He was so close now that she could hear the gentle exhale of each breath leaving his lips.

Astrid kept her head down as she found her jacket and slipped it over his shoulders. "I need to go. Thanks for dinner," she said over her shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. She could hear him following as she approached the front door. Then the fresh air kissed her cheeks and she was free. Tears streamed down her face as she broke into a run, her lungs as cold as ice. Far behind her, Hiccup slumped against his door, watching as she disappeared behind a dark house.


	3. Don't Close Your Eyes

_She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star._

-Jamie Tworkowski

* * *

 _Astrid's favorite thing about her father had always been his optimistic personality. With an attitude that could chase away any dark thought and a hearty laugh that never failed to make her smile, he was the perfect childhood idol. Before her mother died, he was always right there on the sidelines at her soccer games, cold water bottle and camera in hand, or letting her ride on his back around the yard in the summer while the dog chased them, and making sure he took time on his long business trips to call her every night before bed._

 _But then something changed. Her father wasn't her dream-like childhood idol anymore. He came home later and later, sometimes stopping for a smoke (another new habit of his) at the intersection where her mother was pronounced dead, often forgetting to even drive her to soccer practice or answer his phone when she called for a ride back. Tired of walking home alone in the dark, she eventually turned in her jersey and quit the team._

 _It didn't take long for Astrid to figure out that he longed for the past to stay in the past. All pictures of her mother vanished one day while she was at school, then her jewelry, and soon after her wedding dress. Her father had done his best to completely erase her from their lives in the hopes of a fresh start._

 _That start never did come._

 _Between the fights over simple matters that left them both in tears and the weeks of silence afterward, a wall had been built between them. She missed him and secretly hoped that he, too, wished for things to be as they had been, but there was no breaking through that wall._

 _It wasn't until the day of her 16th birthday that things took a turn for the worst._

 _Without consulting her father, Astrid made the decision that she was done with her current life. Her grades were suffering, her father didn't have the energy required to take care of a family, and she hated the constant reminders of her mother's death and the role she played in it. So she packed everything she needed into her schoolbag, including his one lighter, and walked past the school to the train station, where she boarded the next train to Los Angeles._

 _At the time, it was the perfect plan. Los Angeles was an immense city, meaning that there would most certainly be an empty apartment and someone who would hire her. And even if there wasn't, she had an aunt in Anaheim who would surely take her in._

 _Then she met Derek. Fiery red hair, adorably crooked teeth, and big hazel eyes all stood out to her as she stepped off the train in LA. He was 18 and had an extra bedroom in his apartment that she was welcome to stay in, an offer she stupidly agreed to as they sat alone in a corner of the station. But he was sweet and lonely and smelled like home; cigarette smoke and cheap laundry detergent._

 _He was her new dream, her reason to keep moving. She loved him unlike anything else, even staying up late some nights to talk with him about finally making it official. She thought things were finally taking a turn for the better._

* * *

Hiccup dragged a hand over his face as he stepped back into the house, Toothless skittering in just before he pulled the door shut a little harder than he meant to. Part of him desperately wanted to chase Astrid down before she got herself hurt or lost while the other yearned to just let sleeping dogs lie; maybe she just needed her space. After all, she had on edge about something through the entire night. Maybe she just didn't enjoy his company quite the way he enjoyed hers. That would certainly explain her negative reaction when he tried to pluck a clump of Toothless' fur from the sleeve of her dress.

Just like how she had started to smile less and less around him. Or her eagerness to finish eating and put space between them. And he couldn't help but notice her recent disinterest in meeting up for coffee or bringing Stormfly along on Toothless' walks.

Hiccup's heart skipped a beat as he went over these facts in his head. Maybe he was right and she really didn't care for him anymore. His eyebrows knit together as he retrieved his laptop from the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. He hastily typed into the search bar, waiting anxiously for the results to pop up. His heart sank as he read them.

 _General discontent...loss of interest...anxiety...social isolation...loss of appetite...irritability…_

They described Astrid's behavior perfectly.

It made him feel sick to think of her as _ill_ or a statistic in some study _._ He hoped that it was all wrong; that she was just having a rough week. Astrid was his best friend. He knew her better than anyone else ever could. How could she have become _depressed_ without him knowing? He had always seen a side of her that was so cheery, so positive, so eager to see the bright side of things...but was that really who she was?

Hiccup shut the laptop and buried his head in his hands. His mind flashed to the scar on her palm that disappeared under the sleeve of her dress, then her haste to cross her arms and hide it from view. His head ached. His hands trembled. A shaky breath escaped his lips.

Where had he been when she needed him? When she had been _hurting_? Did he really know her after all?

Hiccup reached into his pocket for his phone, selecting the very first contact before lifting it to his ear. He stared into the darkness of his bedroom as he waited, hoping.

* * *

Astrid's eyes snapped open. Her hands shook as she pushed herself away from the sink and her tired reflection. She attempted to calm her breathing as she spotted her purse on the kitchen counter and began to dig through it for her phone.

 _Hiccup._

The repetitive chirping of her ringtone was the only sound in the dim kitchen as she stared at his smiling face, drinking in the sight of his green eyes and freckles, the things that made him who he was. She wanted to hear his voice in her ear again, singing and joking like he always did to make her smile. But she couldn't talk to him, couldn't force him to listen to another poor excuse for her behavior. It was a sick game and she knew it, but what else was there to do? She wouldn't let herself take his happiness away from him like the way hers had been taken from her.

And then just like that it was quiet. Hiccup's face and the opportunity disappeared as her phone's screen went dark, leaving only the harsh bathroom light to illuminate the kitchen.

Astrid gripped her phone in her right hand as she returned to the bathroom. She set it next to the sink before turning the faucet on, watching as the bathtub slowly began to fill. She focused on the dull, aching tightness in her throat as she undressed.

The cold water stung her skin as she lowered herself into the bath. She pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling the telltale wetness at the corners of her eyes. Her skin prickled as she traced the scars on her arms lightly, paying special attention to the strip of raised, pink flesh that stretched from her left palm to the middle of her forearm. She still remembered that night. Sitting alone in that tiny bathroom, an old kitchen knife resting on the floor beside her as an angry fist banged on the locked door, her entire world crashing around her.

God, how long had it been since she had seen him? She wondered if he still remembered her; if he still thought about _good_ it must have felt to have his hands around her throat-

A sob echoed through the bathroom, her own voice mocking her for her _weakness._ She should have stayed with Hiccup. Hiccup would make everything okay and then...and then what? He would just take her apart and put her back together again, all clean and new? No, that was silly. Those things only happened in movies. She knew enough about the world to know that even people like Hiccup couldn't always be heroes.

She watched the water pour from the faucet, her entire body aching from the cold. Her eyelids were heavy but she forced them open, a small voice in the back of her mind telling her that she shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this.

But then something happened. Her eyes shot open when her phone began to ring again, She pushed herself out of the bath, water splashing over its sides as she collapsed onto the tile floor. Her body sung with pain as she pushed herself onto trembling arms and grabbed her phone from the vanity. She sighed as she leaned against the side of the bathtub.

Her thumb hovered over the answer button. As she hesitated, the phone went silent. She listened to her own heavy, pained breathing as she stared at the dark screen, her stomach going cold. A tear slipped down her cheek, then another, and another after that. A scream welled up in her throat but she forced it back down.

She almost cried out in joy when it began to ring again. She hit the answer button without even considering the consequences, the need to hear his soothing voice blotting out all other thoughts.

"Astrid?"

She held her breath as she listened, unable to speak.

"Where are you? I...God, I'm so stupid. I'm sorry. Please just come back."

Silence.

"I know I screwed up, but just give me a chance. I know there's something wrong, Astrid. It's okay."

She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sob that broke through her lips. He knew. That knowledge alone both terrified and excited her.

"Please. Just let me try. You don't have to be alone in whatever this is."

Tears streamed down her cheeks freely now. Someone had finally thrown her a lifeline.

"Astrid?"

She hung up and dropped her phone on the tile, the screen no doubt shattering into a thousand glittering pieces. Her head fell back against the wall, her eyelids hot and heavy as she sobbed freely.


	4. The Weight of the World

_We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers._

 _-Jamie Tworkowski_

* * *

 _Los Angeles was like a jungle. Without the teeth and the claws, you were no one. The lower class, the prey, knew where they were destined to end up someday: nowhere or dead with no one to speak of their name in mourning. Without money or some sort of connection to the higher class, the predators, you were worthless to the city. If it couldn't use you, it didn't want you, and that was made clear in several ways._

 _For a while, they lived in the in between, the middle class, where you were neither appreciated or looked down on. Astrid picked up a job as a secretary at a local dental office while Derek worked long shifts at a factory just outside the city. They lived comfortably but not luxuriously, but she was happy enough just having somewhere and someone to call her own._

 _Even when Astrid was fired from her position over the many hours she had taken off to work towards a degree, things were okay. Sure, they had to move into a shabbier apartment and spent more nights in than out enjoying themselves. They had each other and that was enough. She later found a waitressing position at a sleazy night club within walking distance of their apartment complex, which was certainly better than nothing. However, she could easily see that Derek wasn't handling the stress as well as she was._

 _When she tried speaking to him about it, even going as far as offering to take him a therapy group to deal with his stress, he lashed out at her, yelling and banging his fists on the wall until the old man upstairs came down to complain._

 _But still she loved him._

 _Astrid finally began to see things from a different perspective when he started going out to bars with some of the other workers from the factory. She often waited early into the morning for him to come home, hoping that he wasn't hurt or lost._

 _There were no apologies, no signs that he appreciated her concern, no signs that he wanted to change._

 _That was when she began to obsess over her father's old silver lighter, the one thing she had from home. She would often sit for hours, flicking it on and off, watching the small flame rise and fall._

 _It was this habit that drove Derek over the edge._

 _One night, his breath carrying the pungent scent of alcohol and smoke, he stumbled in later than usual. On any other night she would have ignored it and gone to sleep, but being that it was the anniversary of their second year together, she was upset and decided to confront him._

 _Bad idea._

 _So there she waited in the kitchen, lighter in hand, the late summer air chilling her through her thin pajamas. He froze whwn he saw her, breathing heavily._

" _What 'er you doin' up?" he mumbled, stumbling forward and letting himself drop into a chair._

" _You were late," Astrid said quietly. "I was worried."_

 _Derek scoffed. "Can' I get a break?"_

" _It was our anniversary today." She pursed her lips and knit her brows, searching his face for a sign that he had indeed remembered. Nothing._

 _He stood up, throwing his hands into the air. "Don' you see how tired I am? All you ever do is complain. Well maybe you should hear wha' I have to say for once," he yelled._

" _All I ever do is complain? You're rarely here! When you are, it's only to fetch your wallet so you can get hammered," she retorted._

 _He huffed and pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket before searching for a lighter._

 _Astrid shook her head as she watched him. "You know how I feel about you smoking in here-give that back!"_

 _The lighter was suddenly yanked out of her hands. She lunged for Derek as he held it to the end of his cigarette and inhaled the smoke. He blew it into her face, making her cough as he pocketed the lighter._

" _Derek! That was my dad's!" Astrid shrieked._

" _Since when do you care about that old man? All I ever hear is how much of a pain he is." He grabbed her wrists, holding them between them as she struggled._

" _Let go of me!" Astrid grit her teeth and slammed her knee into his thigh, forcing him to release her. He hissed an insult at her under his breath as he doubled over in pain._

" _Don't touch me until you've figured out whatever it is you're doing with your life, Derek." Astrid backed away, pure anger in her eyes. When he grabbed at her again, she threw her wrist back and out of reach, but he still managed to grip the other. His cigarette, glowing orange in the dark kitchen, slipped through his fingers and was crushed into her palm._

 _Pain seared through her veins as a scream bubbled up in her throat. She shoved him away, holding her hand to her chest._

 _He stumbled back, the cigarette falling to the floor. "Damn it. I didn' mean it, doll," he whispered, his eyes wide with fear._

" _Get out," she said quietly._

" _Jus' give me another chance-"_

" _I said get out!" Astrid felt her eyes begin to water, her hand throbbing and raw._

" _Please, Astrid. I'm sorry. I don' have anywhere else to go," he begged. "I'll fix things. I promise this time."_

 _Astrid stared down at the floor for a moment, hesitating. "You promise?"_

 _He nodded and held the lighter out to her. She grabbed it from him with her good hand, happy to feel the cool metal against her skin again._

" _Okay."_

* * *

Astrid stared down into her coffee mug blankly, still groggy from the few hours she had managed to sleep the night before. She sighed as its warmth soaked into her hands, chasing away the chill that lingered in her bones. Light cascaded through the window above the sink, the sounds of the city outside coming to life reaching her ears.

An entire city. Some 600,000 people, most of which would never stop to smile at her or hold the door. Of all the cities in the country she had chosen Baltimore, where even the smallest things dug up old memories that she had fought so hard for so long to force back. Maybe she should have just stayed in California with _him_. At least the money and the people were decent. She could have worked things out with him, or…

Or what? Let him beat her within an inch of her life? Throw herself off a bridge to please him? Silently hope for the day he took it too far and killed her?

Astrid set the mug down, the hot liquid inside threatening to slosh over the sides. She let her eyes wander around her small but efficient kitchen, panic racing through her veins when she caught sight of the digital clock on the oven.

10:14. She was two hours late for work. And to top it all off, wasn't there a staff meeting at noon? Even if she hurried she would never make it in time. If she was lucky, Hiccup would cover for her.

 _Hiccup_. What was he thinking right now? Did he even care if she showed up for work after the way she had acted? She had so much to explain to him, but she had no idea how to go about it without scaring him away. Maybe it would be best to just leave things alone.

But that would be giving up, wouldn't it? The last time she tried that, she ended up with a man who lusted for her blood in a city larger than life.

She was so tired. If she could just sleep for a thousand years…

Astrid sighed and reached for her cellphone. She turned it off and placed the now empty mug in the sink before heading to her bedroom. She climbed into bed, sighing blissfully as the mattress sank beneath her weight, the blankets hugging her figure like a second skin.

 _Things will be okay,_ she thought to herself. _No one can hurt you here if you don't give them a reason to._

But did she really believe it?

* * *

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

Hiccup leaned against the glass wall of the break room, his gaze glued to an empty desk on the other side of the office. His co-workers ignored him as they refilled styrofoam cups with coffee and stopped for a minute of rest, their hands undoubtedly sore and in need of a break after typing all day.

He should have been working himself; Abigail would have a fit if his report wasn't completed and polished to a shine by tomorrow morning. But something about the sight of that empty desk scared him.

Astrid had never called in sick. Even when her father fell the previous winter and landed himself in the hospital, she was there, albeit not happily.

And that was just it. She hadn't called, which was even more unusual. If she had, he would have heard about it already at the incredible rate gossip traveled at.

Hiccup shuffled to the side as a hand reached behind him for a cup. There was no point in lingering; the lunch crowd would be on its way soon. He twisted his way through the throng of people, his heart thundering away in his chest.

What if something had happened to her? She could have become lost on her way home the night before. That would explain why she had never answered his calls.

Or, worse, what if she had made it home and _something else_ had happened?

It was wrong to make assumptions, he knew that, but there was no stopping the thoughts that raced through his mind. He had no idea what, if anything, had happened in the past or what she was capable of.

Hiccup felt as though a pair of invisible hands had slipped around his neck, forcing the air from his body. For a long moment he stood completely still, unable to breathe as he took in the sight of her empty desk, adorned with old pictures and yellow sticky notes.

His feet carried him down the hallway as his hand shot to his back pocket, seeking the reassurance only a phone call could bring him.

The bathroom was empty when he burst through the door. He locked it behind him before pulling up her name from his contact list. Her smiling face greeted him, as careless and beautiful as ever. Her blue eyes were dull.

How had he never noticed? What else had he been missing all these years?

Hiccup hesitated before lifting the phone to his ear. It rang and rang and rang before her voicemail finally cut in. He panicked and hit the call button again, his eyes searching the bland white ceiling.

The ringing stopped. Hiccup froze.

"Hello?"

"Astrid?" he asked, surprised.

There was a slight pause before she responded. "Hiccup?"

"I noticed that your desk was empty. Did something happen?" Hiccup asked.

Another pause. "No. Everything is fine," she said.

Hiccup sighed, somewhat relieved. Just hearing her voice was enough to keep him from tearing his hair out. "Look, about last night-"

"I had to get home and feed Stormfly. You know how she is when her dinner is late."

When was the last time he had even seen her walking with Stormfly?

"Okay, but I still think that there's something we need to talk about," he said.

"Everything is fine, Hiccup. I just needed a day off, okay? We can talk tomorrow," Astrid said.

Could she hear the clear anxiety in her own voice? It was nearly impossible for him to ignore as she spit out the words as quickly as possible.

Hiccup fumbled for a response. "Astrid, I know."

"You know...what?"

"I know something happened yesterday and you don't want to tell me about it," he answered.

There was a muffled groan from her end. "Hiccup, for the second time, everything is _fine-"_

"Fine does not mean okay, Astrid."

A stretch of antagonizing silence followed. Hiccup waited for her to snap, to correct him or tell him it was none of his business, but the reaction never came. He didn't think before pushing the argument further.

"What happened, Astrid? You're not _you_ anymore. I'm trying to help you and you just keep pushing me away," he blurted, regretting every word immediately and longing to erase them from existence, but it was too late now.

There was a strange sound from the other end. Was she... _crying_? Hiccup felt his stomach grow cold with guilt.

"I need space," she whispered.

"Astrid, please just listen-"

"I'm done listening. Goodbye, Hiccup."

"No, no, no, that's not what I-"

 _Click._

"...meant."

Hiccup ran a hand through his hair, his eyes squeezed shut. It took him a few minutes to calm down enough to return his phone to pocket and figure out the next step in whatever it was that he was doing.

If she wasn't going to do the talking, then he would just have do it himself. It was this idea and pure insanity that left him standing outside her apartment complex nearly 45 minutes later.

He texted her upon his arrival and gazed up at the rows of covered windows as he awaited her reply.

 _Please, please answer._

Horns blared and brakes squealed in the road behind him, leaving his ears ringing in the short moments of silence that followed. He felt ridiculous, standing next to a busy street and hoping for a text that would never come. She had made it clear that she didn't want to see him.

Hiccup's phone buzzed in his hand. _Come in._

He threw the door open and took the steps two at a time. He found Astrid standing outaide her door, waiting for him. She avoided his gaze and gestured for him to come inside.

"I told you to say away," she whispered.

"You should know by now that I don't listen well," Hiccup said, offering a small smile. It wasn't returned. "Talk to me."

Astrid lifted herself onto the back of the couch, staring down at her swinging feet. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I didn't drive all the way here in rush hour traffic, nearly lose my job, and scare a couple of pedestrians to hear that, Astrid," he said.

"Well I'm sorry. Were you expecting something a little more exciting?" she sneered.

Hiccup stepped closer to her. "You don't have to lie. I know you better than that."

"I'm not-"

He was so close that she see a strand of Toothless' black fur clinging to his shirt. His hand reached for hers. "I just want to help you. Why won't you let me try?"

"I don't need _help,_ " Astrid snapped. She pushed aginst his chest, the loose sleeves of her sweatshirt sliding up to her elbows.

She felt his eyes _burn_ into the bared flesh. Shock, anger, and fear flashed across his face in the short seconds it took her to yank the sleeves back into place. She bit her lip in an attempt to keep herself from screaming.

The room was quiet. Hiccup's eyes still lingered on her left wrist, as if he could see right through the fabric to the ugly, swollen flesh. He knew that she was _abnormal_ now.

"Astrid…"

"Don't," she whispered. As soon as her lips parted, she felt her composure slip and fall away. She turned away when tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

A pair of warm hands gently grasped her waist, slowly turning her back around before pulling her closer. Astrid sank into Hiccup's chest, inhaling his woodsy cologne as her tears soaked into his shirt.

"It's okay. I'm here," he whispered, his voice cracking. His left hand rubbed the small of her back in soothing circles.

"I-I'm sorry you had to see that," she choked out.

Hiccup shook his head. "Don't _ever_ apologize for being human. Maybe...maybe there's something I can do. Do you want to talk about it?"

Astrid hesitated. Bits and pieces of the years that had lead up to this moment flashed behind her eyes. She couldn't ignore those memories anymore now that he knew, as she had tried to for so long. They were a part of her.

She clutched the sleeve of his button up in her hand, pulling herself back to the present. "It's...it's a lot."

"I have time." Hiccup rested his chin on top of her head, pulling her closer.

"I don't think I how yet," she said, her voice hoarse. She listened to his heart _tha-thump_ in his chest as she blinked the tears from her eyes.


	5. Dancing With Tears in My Eyes

_She didn't even know what it was that she had done to upset him. Was it the longer than planned phone call to her father, who worried for her well-being living with a man he had never met in a city he had never seen? Or perhaps the late hours she worked now, serving sick, lonely men with money to waste? But the second he walked through the door, his eyes cold and hard, she knew she had wronged him._

 _Astrid held the dish she had been lifting to the cupboard against her chest, her throat thickening as he came closer. She resisted the urge to back away, knowing from previous incidents that it would only anger him further. The purple bruises on her arms were clear reminders of that._

" _H-how was your day?" she whispered, her eyes downcast._

 _Strike one._

 _A soft gasp left her lips as the dish she had been clutching crashed to the floor, glass spraying across the tile._

" _How was my day? That's the best you can do? Don't act like I don't know what you did," he growled._

" _I'm sorry. I don't know-"_

 _His harsh laughter filled the kitchen as he stepped closer, his boots squeaking against the floor. "Don't play stupid with me. Wouldn't want anything to happen to that pretty face of yours, doll." She froze as he stroked her cheek lovingly. Then his hand was flying back to strike her, knocking her into the counter. Her side burned with the pain._

" _I'm sorry," she repeated, cowering before him even as her instincts were telling her to run, to fight,_ to do something _. He laughed again, grabbing her arms and digging his fingers into the fresh bruises before she could shake him off. Her teeth dug into her lower lip as she fought to hold back a whimper. He pinned her against the counter, the hard edge forced into the small of her back._

" _I don't want you talking to those people anymore," he growled, his hot breath tickling her cheeks. He practically reeked of booze. She nodded silently, forcing herself to remain calm._

" _You got it?"_

 _Another nod._

 _Astrid inhaled sharply when he shook her, her eyes squeezed shut._

 _Strike two._

" _Are you deaf? When I ask you a question, you're expected to answer it," he hissed._

 _She mumbled a "yes," her blue eyes fluttering open to glare at the floor, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. He let go of her, seemingly proud of himself for having such control over her. The way his cracked lips-lips that reached for the poison that turned him into this monster-twisted into a smirk made her want to retch._

 _Astrid's shoulders sagged forward as he turned his back to her. She was so, so exhausted by these unpredictable manic episodes of his. Her heart longed to fix whatever it was they once had despite the warning signals going off in her head. The battle between love and logic was a long, gruesome one. He simply wasn't the same man anymore; hadn't been since he traded his love and money in for a chance to escape their world and live without guilt or mercy._

 _And as sick as it made her to think the words, she wanted out. For three years she had tried. A second chance became a third, a fourth, a seventh. Bottles and ashtrays replaced smiling photographs. Her face, her mother's face as her father had always said, became darkened by the shadows of lost sleep and angry nights._

 _A tired sigh escaped her lips._

 _Strike three._

 _He spun back around, his hands seeking solace around her neck. Astrid reached for the counter behind her, her trembling hand fumbling around for something to fight back with as sweet oxygen rushed from her lips. The cool handle of a coffee mug kissed her fingertips. Without thinking, she grabbed it, crashing it into the side of his head._

 _He stumbled back, his fingers gently feeling the back of his head, his eyes speaking threats more dangerous than his lips could ever mutter._

 _You're out._

* * *

Astrid stared straight ahead into the red glow of a silver Toyota's tail lights, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Raindrops crashed against the glass only to be whisked away by the windshield wiper a second later.

She had no idea where they were going or why.

Hiccup had come to her door with an offer of dinner, on him of course. Astrid, thinking nothing of the sudden change in his demeanor, had agreed. Now she sat in the passenger seat of his car with cat hair clinging to her jeans, feeling as if she had made a mistake. Hiccup's reluctance to speak and let her control the volume dial on the stereo worried her.

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, followed by a flash of lightning.

Astrid cleared her throat quietly before glancing at his face shyly. "Hiccup, where did you say we're going again?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," he said, his lips twisting upward at the corners into a stale smile.

Astrid trained her gaze on her hands, which were partially covered by the long sleeves of her jacket. It made her feel sick to think of what was just beyond that thin layer of fabric. Jagged, swollen, discolored _scars;_ the hideous markings of her past, present, and future.

She would always be abnormal because of them, no matter how many jackets or bottles of makeup she donned as a mask. Even when no one could see her wrists, she always knew.

Yet despite the shame and regret, she couldn't stop. Those few short moments of _numbness_ before the pain were worth it all. And she craved them every second of every day like a drug.

The car rolled to a stop. Astrid's eyebrows knit together as she took in the brick building before them, a community center according to the large sign. She turned to Hiccup, a question on her lips, but he was already climbing out of the car. She followed, confused.

Hiccup reached out and took her hand in his. He offered her a small but genuine smile before leading her through the glass doors and down a long hallway. They stopped in front of one of the many closed doors. "You don't have to talk, okay? I just wanted you to see that there are others," he said.

Astrid pulled her hand back. "Hiccup, what-"

Before she could continue, the door swung open. Her eyes widened slowly as she took in the circle of folding chairs. A woman with greying hair stood, smiling.

"Welcome. My name is Sandra. Please, take a seat," she said.

Astrid let Hiccup guide her to an empty chair, too shocked to object. Did he really think she was _sick_ enough that _group therapy_ would help? Was she that abnormal in his eyes?

"Rebecca, would you like to start?" the silver-haired woman asked, her eyes focused on a slouching blonde across the room.

The blonde sighed and stood. " _Rebecca,"_ she repeated in a poor imitation of Sandra's voice. "Ruffnut. 19. Lover of all things food and lacrosse."

"And what's your story?" Sandra, clearly the therapist handling the meeting, asked.

"My old man used to get wasted and knock me and my brother around for fun. Nothing serious. Now he's trying to fix things between us so I'll give him money to buy more booze," Rebecca said. She bowed once before plopping back onto her chair and stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Thank you for your bravery. Who would like to go next?"

The husky boy sitting next to Astrid raised his hand shyly before introducing himself as Felix.

Astrid could feel herself begin to shut down as more and more people shared their stories. She didn't belong here. She wasn't a _victim_ or a _survivor._ She was just Astrid. When had that changed?

Her eyes fluttered open when Hiccup's hand touched her shoulder. She was about to shake it off, still hurt by his assumptions, when the therapist made contact with her, smiling like this wasn't a meeting to discuss pain and suffering.

"Tell us a little about yourself, dear," she said.

Astrid glanced at Hiccup. He nodded and smiled, as if he too thought this was a good idea. She stood slowly, feeling all eyes on her as a minute of silence passed.

"I'm Astrid. I'm 20 years old. I...I don't know what to say," she said. Her face burned with embarrassment when the blonde girl, Rebecca, rolled her eyes and snorted.

The therapist thought for a moment. "Well, that's alright. What's your story then? What brought you to us?"

Her _story._ Was that what her life was? A _story_ to be set out for others to read and dissect? Her stomach jolted violently at the thought.

Astrid scanned the faces of the others in the room. They all appeared bored or exhausted, as if showing up had drained them of all energy. These people didn't want her here. They just wanted answers to questions she would never understand.

Without thinking, she turned and threw the door open. Her hair fell into her face as she ran down the hall towards the exit, her eyes red and wet with fresh tears. She dashed into the parking lot, poorly illuminated by the lone streetlight, and searched for a minute before spotting Hiccup's car. She pulled on the handle with one hand, then two, before slamming her hands against it in frustration.

Locked. She was stupid to have thought otherwise.

Astrid sobbed as she sat down on the curb under the light, pushing her hair back from her face. She heard footsteps behind her but didn't react until she saw someone standing beside her in her peripheral vision.

"Just go back inside, Hiccup," she said.

"Astrid, I'm not leaving you alone out here," he said. "Come on, everyone is worried."

"I don't belong in a place like this." Astrid sniffled as she stood, but her eyes remained hard.

Hiccup nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. She clearly wasn't in the mood for a hug or any sort of affection. "Okay. I won't make you go back. Look, I'm proud of you for trying. I...I know what it's like to feel all alone," he said.

Astrid's eyes softened, but she remained quiet.

He continued, "When I was little, my mom took off to travel across Europe. For a while she wrote letters, but then they just stopped. We figured that she had just stopped caring. Apparently her car was found alongside a road in Munich years ago."

"Hiccup, I'm so sorry," Astrid whispered. "My mother died in an accident when I was younger too."

He shrugged and looked down at his shoes. "It doesn't bother me as much anymore. At least she died doing what she loved."

"I'm sure she loved you very much." Astrid slid her arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace.

"She was great. Everyone loved her," Hiccup sighed. He hugged her back, his chin resting in the crook of her neck.

"The world is an ugly place," Astrid blurted suddenly. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she took a sharp breath. "Before my mom died, I used to take dance lessons and play soccer and...everything was perfect. I had nothing to worry about. Then everything changed and I lost that peace of mind forever."

"If the world were an ugly place, we wouldn't be standing here right now, would we?" Hiccup asked. "Especially not you. You're too beautiful, inside and out, to belong in an ugly world."

Astrid smiled at him, her makeup smudged and her eyes swollen but still glowing.

Hiccup removed one of his hands from her waist to hold it before her. "Now, how about that dance, Milady? Don't expect me to kick a soccer ball around though."

Astrid laughed as she slid her hand into his, their bodies swaying together. "You're such a dork," she said.

"You love it," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I do." She rested her head against his shoulder, letting her eyes fall shut as Hiccup began to hum softly into her ear. He twirled her once, mouthing the words to her favorite song. The minutes melted together as they danced under the streetlight, all alone in the parking lot. It wasn't until Hiccup began to pull her towards the car that she realized just how much time had passed.

"Hiccup?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Hiccup grinned at her before backing out of the parking space. "All in a day's work. Hey, turn the radio on, won't you?"

Astrid nodded and browsed the stations, searching for something worth listening to. Upon finding nothing, Hiccup suggested that she put the CD he kept in the glove box in. She commented on how old-fashioned he was as she searched for it, a shadow of a smile on her lips.

"Track five," he said as she removed the disk from its case.

Astrid skipped ahead to the fifth track, a smile gracing her lips as soon as it began to play. It was her song, the one he had been humming to her as they danced. She rested her head against the seat as she listened, her eyelids heavy.

Hiccup began to hum again, his eyes locked on the road. When the song ended and he glanced over at Astrid, she was curled up in her seat, fast asleep.


End file.
